


Feel it in Your Heart

by transbigbird



Category: Final Space (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Romantic Fluff, anyway i love them, hm okay thats enough, oof where to start, slight hints of autistic gary which is a hc you can tear from my cold dead autistic hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 11:42:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14496222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transbigbird/pseuds/transbigbird
Summary: Mornings are so easy to keep next to everything that keeps you alive, so easy to feel in your chest.





	Feel it in Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

> hi yes hello folks not gonna lie i just really needed more garycato fluff. am i aware nearly 95% of all the final space fics on here are garycato? yes. i've read all of them already. but only about 5 or so are really domestic. let's make it six, baby.

Look. Be honest with yourself. Waking up in the morning is never fun. Who leaves a comfortable bed full of warmth just to go off and do something lousy like cook, or go to work? Really, lying in bed with the fan turned on and the sheets pulled just high enough on your shoulders is _basically_ like getting a hug from the entire universe, if the entire universe wasn’t boring or annoying or _cold_ or _uncomfortable_. It was a nice time to enjoy yourself, to take in filtered fluorescents, to feel like you could stay here forever, in this moment, and feel so... so _content_ in life, all the time. 

Getting up in the morning isn’t fun, but it’s so much more difficult when you add a furball you’re disasterly in love with into the equation.

“Gary,” says a voice, dripping with morning gravel, “it’s already ten in the morning. We really need to get up.” The voice rumbles through Gary’s head, and it makes him sink deeper into his pillow.

“Sorry, what was that? Couldn’t hear you over the sound of me not listening.” His voice is muffled by fur, and he breathes, just taking in this moment of a morning being spent in bed. Avocato sighs and Gary can feel his chest move under his cheek. He takes in the fact that Avocato breathes, too. 

“I know you can hear me, Gary,” Avocato says, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Even when I do this. You can’t actually miss anything I say, can you?” The arm he has draped over Gary’s shoulder tightens, drawing him closer. “You can hear everything from right there.” Gary shakes his head, holds his hands closer to his body.

“Nuh-uh, can’t understand what the crap you’re saying, dude.” Avocato laughs a little, every bit of it waving down his neck, pooling in his chest, and all Gary can think about is how close they are, how easy it is _feel_ everything inside another person. 

Back when he was alone, when he would climb into a bed with cold sheets, all he could feel was his skin on rough fabric and air on his face. And in the morning, when the lights were turned to their highest intensity, he would grimace and turnover until he got slammed against a wall. But after his sentence ended and he convinced H.U.E. to at least give him weekends of extra sleep, the lights would slowly turn from dim orange to yellow to white and H.U.E. never really flipped the bed anymore. For the most part.

And then there was Avocato, and _oh_ , how nice that _is_. When they were first figuring out whatever the heck was happening between them, Gary would awkwardly walk to his room whenever H.U.E. recommended he sleep, and then lay there, wondering if maybe he should’ve invited Avocato over. And there were those terribly weird nights he’d get, whether because he had a nightmare or he couldn’t sleep or he plain and simply just wanted to be _touched_ , where he’d stand in front of Avocato’s door, hand raised to knock and then never doing it. He’d stand there and feel almost embarrassed for wanting to want each him without really knowing what that _meant_ , and it kind of made his heart ache.

It ended sooner than later, of course, when Gary grabbed Avocato from the commissary table at one in the morning and used “it’s freezing in my room” as an excuse.

They sit there in Gary’s bed for a while longer, Gary tapping fingers on Avocato and Avocato counting the seconds before Gary agrees to get up.

“I actually wanna make pancakes,” Gary says, smoothing his thumbs over the white patch of fur on Avocato’s chest. “Which is weird, right?”

Avocato thinks for a second, blinks. “Why would that be weird?”

“‘Cause I never wanna cook breakfast. It’s boring, and it means we have to leave the bed.”

“Why do you wanna do it today, then?”

Gary moves his thumbs faster, a hum in his throat. Avocato can tell he’s kind of flustered.

“I- hm. To be honest?” He stops rubbing his thumbs on Avocato and pulls his body up the mattress so they meet eye to eye. “I was thinking of you just. Uhh, I dunno,” and he nervously laughs, eyes flickering to Avocato’s ears and nose and whiskers. “I was just thinking of me, just, you know, trying not to burn pancakes and you…” He falters for a second, thinks of how dumb he’s probably going to sound and then he sees a little smile on Avocato’s face and tells himself to take that mental trash to the curb. “And I’m thinking of you just, yeah, standing behind me and your chin’s on my shoulder and you’ve got your, like, mega-hot-buff arms around my stomach and you’re just laughing at me trying to flip this pancake and I’m kinda laughing, too? And I can feel all of it in my chest and it feels so nice like there’s one of those warm-up-in-the-microwave stuffies I used to carry around, but inside me and, and, and…” He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, thinking of how to form words. Avocato gives him the time he usually needs to gather his thoughts and let out the breath that he’s always holding. “And I’m just so, so happy about the fact that you’re going to tell me my pancakes are really good even though I won’t eat them because I burned them black and they smell like smoke.”

At that Avocato laughs, an actual head-back, louder-than-than-the-entire-conversation kind of laugh that shows his chin and his neck, and Gary can still _feel it_ , jumping from one chest to another, oozing into his flesh like some sort of sick love disease. He can feel it in his fingertips, even if slightly numb in the metal ones, and he can feel it in his ribs and his lungs, and he feels it travel up his throat and his jaw and it pushes the muscles on his face up and he’s just so, so happy and so, so _there_ in the moment.

“Come one,” says Avocato, once his laughter settles down. “I’ll help you not burn only three pancakes, so you can eat.”

And so they go to the commissary and they dig out the ingredients and Avocato _does_ wrap himself around Gary, and they _do_ laugh when Gary messes up a flip and Avocato laughs even harder when _he’s_ the one who drops a pancake and… And Gary lights up when - _oh oh oh_ \- when he realizes that it’s a lot more than just laughter that he can feel in his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @ transbigbird ! please talk to me about final space ,,
> 
> also if i made any too obvious mistakes feel free to come to my house and personally murder me


End file.
